


A Sudden Thaw

by candyharlot



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crushes, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Firsts, Fluff, Getting Together, Holding Hands, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Making Out, Pining, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Shiratorizawa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-08-22 05:09:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8274134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candyharlot/pseuds/candyharlot
Summary: It had been a gradual process. Ushijima was reminded of the snow thawing in preparation for summer - an icicle melting, changing its shape in the face of the sunrise before eventually breaking off and piercing the ground below.





	1. Stretching

Ushijima’s current concern was the tingling sensation in his fingertips whenever his good friend Ohira smiled at him. It wasn't exactly a  _ bad  _ feeling – not at all. In fact, it reminded him of how it felt when he scored the winning point in a match. His heart flooded with warmth and he found himself wanting to smile in return.

Key word:  _ wanting _ .

Unfortunately, there were many times when the smile got stuck somewhere between his brain and his mouth and he simply stared instead. People often teased him for this, but it wasn't something he could control.

There were times when he desperately wished he could.

For Ushijima, successfully communicating how he felt to other people had always been a task far more daunting than even the toughest volleyball game. At least on the court he could decimate his opponents given all the variables checked out.

Ushijima was changing out of his running clothes when he heard Ohira open the door of their shared dorm room. “See you in class, Wakatoshi,” he said with a yawn.

Shirt pulled halfway over his head, Ushijima nodded in response. His friend gave him one last sleepy smile, his gaze lingering before he closed the door behind him.

Every morning like clockwork Ushijima woke up at 5 am, went for a short run, came back to freshen up and then headed to class. Sometimes Ohira joined him, but this morning Ushijima hadn’t been able to rouse him. Maybe it had something to do with the textbook and notes littering his desk, as if he’d been studying right up until he slipped into bed the night before.

Ushijima tossed the sweat-soaked shirt into the hamper, on top of some of Ohira’s dirty gym clothes. The two seniors technically had separate hampers, but for whatever reason Ohira seemed intent on using Ushijima’s a solid 50% of the time.

This meant that every now and then, Ushijima pulled on shirt that felt just a little too tight in the shoulders, or Ohira pulled on a white tube sock that was a smidge too big.

Ushijima had briefly considered saying something about it, but the truth was that sometimes he kept the shirt on.

Besides, they’d been rooming together since their first year so the amount of clothes they’d swapped was negligible. Not only would saying something now seem odd, but it also wouldn’t do much to change the pattern of behavior. Much like Ushijima, Ohira was prone to certain routines, habits.

Their way of doing things was a comfortable one. That’s why it was strange - the tingling in Ushijima’s hands. It was still there as he pulled on his school blazer.

While Ushijima had been going to Shiratorizawa Academy since middle school, Ohira transferred in during their first year of high school. Ushijima still remembered how surprised he’d been when Ohira took his hand and shook it by way of introduction.

“Hi, I’m Ohira Reon! I’m a wing-spiker, too,” he’d said, and his grip confirmed this.

“I see.” Ushijima had always aimed to be a wing-spiker ever since he found out volleyball existed. He possessed the build for it, the mind for it. His goal was to be the kind of ace his father talked about.

Ohira appeared to be cut from the same cloth, but he lacked the ambition Ushijima associated with the position. He seemed content to be the support for the rest of the team even though his skills were obviously above average. Ushijima couldn’t understand why.

After their first week of practice was over and he’d gotten a chance to analyze his new teammate’s playing style, he asked him.

"Why aren’t you interested in being the ace?"

Ohira looked up in shock at the point blank question, then threw his head back and laughed. It was a full, melodic sound, easy on the ears. His voice was a good voice. Ushijima decided he didn’t mind listening to it.

"Nah, I don't think I'm made of the right stuff for that," Ohira said with an easy smile. His head was shaved on the sides, with a puff of curly black hair on top. Ushijima wondered if it was as soft as it looked. "You, on the other hand... I hear you're some kind of prodigy. How long have you been playing volleyball, Wakatoshi?"

Ushijima tensed at the casual use of his first name. It wasn't that he necessarily minded, it was just that people hardly used it unless they were his mother. His teammates in middle school had never warmed up to him enough for that and he didn’t have friends outside of volleyball.

At the beginning of practice Ohira had insisted that everyone call him by his first name, Reon, but Ushijima didn't feel quite comfortable with that. Not yet, at least.

"My dad taught me when I was very young,” he said quietly. “He played for Shiratorizawa as well."

Ohira lifted his thick eyebrows and whistled lowly. "Wow, that’s really something. I wonder what it's like to have an arm like yours. I’ll be honest - I've only ever seen college guys spike a ball like you do. How tall are you, anyway?"

Ushijima shrugged. He assumed he had grown over the summer, because the net didn't seem as high now. He’d find out soon enough when he checked in for his yearly physical.

"You’re definitely over six feet," Ohira continued, raising a hand and drawing a line from top of his head to the top of Ushijima’s. He was shorter by at least three inches, but Ushijima thought Ohira carried himself like someone much taller. Perhaps it was because he seemed comfortable in his own skin even off the court – a trait that Ushijima envied. Ohira walked with his shoulders back, his spine straight. Confident.

Ohira's warm brown eyes were focused solely on Ushijima, bright with curiosity. It was very different from the way most people looked at him - furtively, avoiding his gaze when he caught them. Like they feared him.

Ushijima rubbed the back of his head, looking down at his shoes as he walked. His back-to-school haircut made him feel vulnerable.

"You don't say much, do you?" Ohira inquired good-naturedly.

People had asked him similar things before, but it sounded completely different coming from Ohira. It didn't make Ushijima want to sink into the floor, the way it did when his teachers asked him to speak up in class – even though his voice was deeper than most of his peers, it was what they referred to as “monotone” and apparently difficult to hear from across the room.

After that he had made sure to always get a spot in the front row.

Even though he wasn't embarrassed, Ushijima still didn't know how to respond to Ohira. So he didn't.

"That's okay," Ohira said, kicking a rock across the pavement. They were almost to the dorms, where they also happened to be assigned to the same room.

"Not everyone has to be super talkative,” he carried on. “I think that the world would be really noisy if everyone were like that one guy on our team… I think he said his name was Tendou? Yeah - Tendou Satori. He’s somethin’ else.”

Ushijima blinked as he imagined the red-headed blocker. "Oh.”

"Yeah!" Ohira nodded emphatically, as if he’d just regained his train of thought. "To me, you're the kind of person who doesn't say much, but when you do everyone quiets down and listens. You can use that to your advantage when you become the ace.”

Ushijima frowned.

"You're on that path, aren't you?" Ohira questioned as they slipped inside the dormitory building. He looked over his shoulder with a frown. "It sure seems like that’s what Coach Washijou has in mind, so if I were you I’d speak up if that’s not something-”

"I want to be the ace," Ushijima stated, and then bit his lip when he realized he’d interrupted his new teammate.

Ohira didn’t seem overly concerned. He smiled as they climbed the stairs.

"Good! That's good.” Ohira opened the door to their dorm room and flipped on the light. "I think you'll be a great ace one day.”

Ushijima wanted to say something like, "Thank you, Ohira," but nothing came out when he opened his mouth. He decided not to force it since Ohira was proving himself to be an understanding sort of person. Ushijima was thankful for this as they would be roommates for the foreseeable future.

After mentally kicking himself, he watched from his chair as Ohira set to work unpacking one of his boxes, taking out picture frames of what appeared to be his family and setting them on his desk.

"Does your family live close by, Wakatoshi?" Ohira asked, turning and meeting Ushijima's gaze.

“Yes.”

"That’s good, that they’re close by,” Ohira mused, more so to himself than to Ushijima. His smile faded slightly as he studied one picture in particular. It was of two younger boys, one with a scowl on his face and another with a bright, shining smile not unlike Ohira’s.

Ushijima frowned and rested his forearms on the back of his chair. "What do you mean?"

"I’m from another prefecture," Ohira elaborated, setting the picture frame down with a  _ clack _ . "I think I mentioned it when we introduced ourselves in practice, but I'm here on scholarship. I wasn't going to accept it at first… I thought my two younger brothers needed me more. But in the end," he shrugged. "My parents insisted. I think they want me to follow my own path."

Ushijima cocked his head to the side, glancing at the photo again.

"Your own path?"

The darkness threatening to take over Ohira’s face vanished. It was replaced by the same expression Ushijima had seen earlier, when he was spiking balls that one of the other promising first years, Semi Eita, had been setting for him.

"At first, I just wanted to play volleyball because it's fun and I’m not half bad at it. I’m what they call a solid player, reliable. That’s useful for powerhouse schools."

Ohira looked at the ceiling as he considered something. Suddenly, a triumphant smile spread across his face. "But after seeing what you're all about, I've decided I also want to help you become Shiratorizawa’s new ace.”

Ushijima's eyes widened a fraction. "You don't-"

"Don't say I don't have to," Ohira interrupted, walking over and holding out his hand in what Ushijima had come to recognize as an offer for a handshake. "I  _ want _ to. You're a good guy, Wakatoshi, the kind of teammate I think I’ll always remember. I want to find out what you’re capable of. What  _ we’re  _ capable of – as a team.”

The simmering fire in Ohira's eyes was contagious. Ushijima’s heart sped up at the encouragement, at the genuine vote of confidence coming from someone he met only a week ago.

Ohira - no, Reon - was  _ excited  _ about playing with him.

After a moment of hesitation, Ushijima took Ohira's hand and squeezed. He felt a smile twitch promisingly at the corner of his mouth.

"I want that, too."

✿✾✿✾✿✾✿✾

During the summer between their second and third year, Ushijima realized that things had changed between him and Ohira.

It had been a gradual process. Ushijima was reminded of the snow thawing in preparation for summer - an icicle melting, changing its shape in the face of the sunrise before eventually breaking off and piercing the ground below.

At first, he hadn’t been able to put his finger on exactly  _ what _ had changed. All he knew was he’d started noticing new and interesting things about tasks he’d watched Ohira perform time and time again. Things like the way Ohira’s back muscles contorted whenever he was shrugging out of a t-shirt or the way the water ran down the curve of his buttocks in the shower. The way his calves flexed when he was jumping to spike a ball.

Ushijima now knew that Ohira had freckles not only on the bridge of his nose, but also on his shoulders. Even more dusted his lower back and disappeared into the waistline of his gym shorts –  _ this _ he’d discovered during their last volleyball practice when his shirt had ridden up. It wasn't that Ushijima stared on purpose - in fact, most of the time he couldn't even remember what drew his eyes to Ohira in the first place. All he knew was that it was becoming increasingly difficult to look away.

Ushijima couldn’t shake the sensation that he was playing with fire.

This morning it was Ohira’s aftershave that caught his attention. Had he put it on after leaving the dorm? He inhaled. Was it the same kind Ohira always used, or was it a different one? Ushijima needed to know, so he leaned in and sniffed his friend’s neck. He regretted this decision when Ohira turned and gave him an incredulous look, one triangular eyebrow quirking upward.

Ushijima’s stomach fluttered unpleasantly.  _ I should have had more for breakfast _ , he reasoned.  _ My caloric intake has been lacking, I need to fix my diet before the Inter-High prelims - _

"What's up, Wakatoshi?" Ohira asked in a low voice. A few feet away, an over-energetic Tendou was preoccupied rattling off the plot of the newest  _ Gundam  _ anime to an oppositely affected Semi. The setter’s bedhead had reached new heights.

“Nothing."

Ohira straightened up and tucked his hands into the pockets of his school blazer, a sign Ushijima knew meant that he wasn't going to budge quite yet.

Ushijima relented. "You smell different.”

Ohira gave him a lop-sided grin with those full lips of his and Ushijima felt the back of his neck heat up under his collar. "Thanks, Wakatoshi," Ohira replied easily, adjusting the backpack strap across his chest. "I figured I'd branch out a bit since we’re starting university in the fall.” He looked over his shoulder to make sure Tendou and Semi were distracted before leaning in closer to say, “Do you think it suits me?”

Ushijima hesitated for a moment before nodding. “It’s…nice,” he mumbled. What else was he supposed to say to that? Was there a specific response Ohira was looking for? These things were so very, very lost on him.

Luckily, Ohira let it go with a wink and a gentle pat on Ushijima’s arm. Nothing more was said, but Ohira wore it every day for the rest of the week following.

The scent now permeated his clothes, which had lately spread from the hamper to Ushijima’s bed. Ushijima assumed this had to do with Ohira’s failed attempts at multitasking. He was the type of person to leave a task in the middle of doing it, only to start something new and never go back to the first thing – in this case, it was laundry. He was also notorious for losing his reading glasses only for Ushijima to find them in his gym bag days later. They had scratches on the lenses but Ohira seemed content to use them anyway.

For Ushijima, the most frustrating part about these new feelings was his inability to look Ohira in the eye - and not because of his normal amount of what Semi referred to as "social awkwardness." Even though he was awkward, eye contact usually wasn't an issue for him. In fact, during the same conversation Semi had also said that he made too  _ much  _ eye contact and that it was sometimes intimidating for the first years - Goshiki not included.

Ushijima tried his best not to be awkward  _ or  _ intimidating to his teammates, but it was easier said than done. At least Ohira didn't get offended by his blunt nature. Worried, maybe… But never offended. Tendou wasn't a concern either, but that was because as far as Ushijima could tell, Tendou was literally impossible to offend. Tendou Satori was the one who  _ did  _ the offending.

The metaphorical icicle plunged into the snow early Saturday morning. Ohira had invited Ushijima to go for a morning run around the track with him, since they didn't have practice until later in the afternoon. A way to make up for sleeping in earlier in the week, he said.

After they logged several miles each – Ohira a few less – Ushijima noticed that his left hamstring was unusually tight. A bad muscle cramp had woken him up in the middle of the night, but he’d thought he'd gotten rid of it during his pre-workout stretch.

With a slight limp, he made his way over to the exercise room, the one with the padded floor. The sun was still coming up and the indoor gym was completely empty. It probably would stay that way until around noon, when most students finally emerged from their dorms. Saturdays were lazy around Shiratorizawa Academy. Ushijima usually used the downtime to study the video footage he had of international matches, or tend to the plants in the school's community garden if he hadn’t had time to during the week.

After finishing his last lap and refilling his water bottle at the nearby fountain, Ohira followed him in. Ushijima immediately sat down on the ground and started stretching out his leg. Sparks of pain shot up the back of his thigh and despite his best efforts he couldn't stifle the groan that erupted.

Ohira was instantly at his side.

"What's wrong?" he asked, kneeling beside him.

"Cramp. It's – It’ll pass," Ushijima bit out, as he stretched his fingertips to his toes and willed his muscles to cooperate. Sweat drops slid down his face as he touched his chest to his knees.

The pain wasn't letting up - this wasn't working. Ushijima swallowed another groan. He usually prided himself on how well he knew his body's limits, but even he was at a loss for what to do right now. Was he dehydrated? Had he not been consuming enough potassium?

"Here, let me help."

Ushijima shook his head. “Not necessary.”

He heard a sigh somewhere above him and before he could object further, Ohira took control of the situation. Hands gentle yet firm, he took Ushijima's left leg by the ankle and bent it at the knee, then positioned his right leg over a bit. Ushijima winced at the spasm the spread from his hip all the way down to his toes.

"All right, now reach forward and grab my hand," Ohira instructed. Ushijima did so, even though he was shaking now from the strain. "There we go.”

Ushijima rested his forehead on his knee as he leaned forward, Ohira pulling his arm taut with one hand and holding his bad leg steady with the other. This was working better than what Ushijima had been doing by himself, but it was probably going to take more stretching and sitting in the sauna to get back to normal.

"You really should start using that foam roller – y’know, the noodle-looking thing Coach gave you," Ohira reminded him after a few minutes of breathy silence. “I’m sure it would help with this sort of thing.”

He tried to take a deep breath but choked on it when Ohira nudged his right leg further out. "I know," he replied.

"You gotta take care of yourself," Ohira murmured as his grip tightened around Ushijima’s ankle and anchored it to the floor. Ushijima bit his lip, this time not just from the pain. "Right now you’re the only ace we’ve got. Goshiki has a promising future, but I don’t think he’s ready to carry the team just yet.”

As the pain slowly seeped out of the sore muscles in his leg and his head cleared, Ushijima realized that the tension blooming in his chest had nothing to do with his stiff muscles. It had to do with the fact that Ohira's thumb was caressing the bend of his ankle as he held it in place.

Ushijima felt that familiar tingling heat spread up the back of his neck and took a deep breath through his nose.

"I - " He swallowed the sudden dryness in his throat and nodded. "I understand.”

Ohira didn't reply and Ushijima slowly lifted his head from his knee to find that he was still holding Ohira's hand. Or rather, Ohira was still holding  _ his _ hand. Neither one of them moved to let go.

Instead, Ohira’s grip tightened.

They fleetingly met each other’s eyes as Ohira smoothed his thumb along the vein running on the surface of Ushijima's hand.

"You've been acting strange lately," he ventured, turning Ushijima’s hand over and running his fingertips along his callused palm. While the ace's hands were slightly larger, his fingers longer, Ohira’s were compact - deft and sure in their movements. They were  _ strong _ . 

Ushijima willed his heart to slow down, willed it back down into his chest where it belonged. "Tendou says I always act strange," he replied with a scoff.

Ohira slowly intertwined his fingers with his friend's and shifted forward, narrowing the distance between them. His other hand came to rest on Ushijima's knee.

It suddenly felt like Ohira was closer than he'd ever been, even though Ushijima knew this wasn't  _ technically _ true. They'd hugged after winning games. They'd been squished in next to each other on the volleyball team’s bus. Most recently, during one of Tendou’s summer break get-togethers, Ushijima had accidentally dozed off with his head on Ohira’s shoulder.

And yet right now, Ushijima's heart was racing as fast as it would be in the last few seconds of a match. He could count every single freckle on Ohira's face, see the indent of the faint scar on his eyebrow.

"Satori is one to talk," Ohira snorted. His fingers slowly spread along the curve of Ushijima's knee and he sighed, searching his friend’s eyes. "D’you think you can tell me what’s going on?”

Ushijima's eyes darted to the floor but his fingers constricted around Ohira's. His mouth felt like he’d filled it up with the cotton balls his mother kept in a jar in the bathroom. "I don't—” His voice wavered. “I don’t know how.”

The air between them felt so hot and close and Ushijima's chest felt so  _ tight.  _ This was all new to him and he had no idea what was going on - what was going to happen next. He glanced up into Ohira’s earnest face and noticed that his friend was blushing too. This fact reassured him slightly.

"Can I kiss you, Wakatoshi?"

Ushijima gave a single nod just as Ohira tipped forward.

The first few brushes of their lips were chaste, experimental. Ushijima held his breath as the hand on his knee moved to cradle the back of his head. Ohira adjusted the angle so he could get better access, his tongue soothing Ushijima’s quivering bottom lip before slipping between them. Ushijima fisted his free hand in the front of Ohira’s athletic jacket and pulled him closer as he finally relaxed his jaw.

Ohira hummed as he took his time working open his friend’s mouth, gradually pulling him into a steady rhythm of give and take. Ushijima followed eagerly, his hands sliding around to outline Ohira’s back muscles – the ones he’d been admiring from a distance for so long. His body was toned, his chest broad but there was a softness to it that made Ushijima want to melt into him.

Ushijima had fallen asleep thinking about what it would be like to do this, to feel Ohira’s soft lips give underneath his own, to feel his body this close. He always imagined it might feel like floating down a river, smooth sailing along the current until suddenly a wave crashes into him, rocking the boat and changing the route. Making his heart skip a beat.

His instincts had been correct.

That’s when Ushijima heard it: a gaggle of girls, approaching fast. Because of the blood coursing through his ears they sounded very far away, like he was underwater, but Ushijima had a feeling they were far closer than that.

Ohira was the first to pull away. His dark eyes were shining with emotions Ushijima couldn't put a name to even if he tried. He felt rough fingertips touch his face - trail along his jawline. “You’re very handsome,” Ohira said in a voice so deep and gentle that Ushijima felt it burn beneath his skin.

No one had ever called him “handsome” before. Not to his face, anyway. Then again, no one had ever kissed him before either. “Thank you,” he replied thickly.  _ So are you. _

Ohira gave him a warm smile and helped pull him up into a standing position. It took a lot of effort for Ushijima not to lean up against the wall for support – his legs were wobbly, and not just because of the cramp. He’d be able to shake that out, suck it up and square his shoulders. This…felt different. He wasn’t sure if he was a fan.

He leaned on Ohira instead.

“Let’s get out of here before we have company. Are you hungry?”

✿✾✿✾✿✾✿✾   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaahhhhh, this was a complete accident... I woke up at 3 am the other morning and word-barfed a HC thread onto twitter and people liked it for some reason so I decided to properly write it. this is, without a doubt, the purest thing i have ever written in my natural born life?? thank you so much [maelle](http://twitter.com/ldiote) for looking it over and supporting me you're just the absolute best and i'm so happy we're friends aaaa
> 
> UPDATE: this is gonna be 3 parts.
> 
> if ushijima reads as autistic in this it's because i absolutely headcanon him that way.
> 
> yell @ me about shiratorizawa [here](http://twitter.com/candy_harlot)


	2. Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ushijima has an Emotion™. Reon gets a cold. Tendou comes to the rescue.

They lost to Karasuno in the end.

As shocking as it had been, time didn’t stop moving. The Shiratorizawa volleyball team took the time they would’ve spent preparing for Nationals and worked on strengthening their new lineup. While the third years stopped participating in official practices they did sit in occasionally, if only to make sure Shirabu didn’t murder Goshiki in a crime of passion. 

Tendou suggested that Ushijima take a rest day like everyone else, but there was one problem with that: Ushijima didn’t take rest days. He was a dedicated player in every sense of the word. Come rain or shine, he was in the gym for at least an hour every day. It had been that way for years now. He didn’t know any other way.

Besides, it helped soothe that awful, hollow ache that came with losing.  _ I have to keep going. _

Hinata Shouyou had accomplished an amazing feat: he’d made Ushijima lose his composure. Playing against Karasuno had felt like grasping at straws. For the first time in his life, Ushijima began to doubt his individual technique. He trusted it. His teammates trusted it. They trusted  _ him. _

_ Perhaps that’s the problem, _ Ushijima thought. He’d become too complacent in his own skills, comfortable in Shiratorizawa’s formerly unrivaled strength. Somewhere along the way, Ushijima had stopped learning new things.

Losing in junior high had been a different matter. Even at the time he understood that their losses were because the team wasn’t strong enough overall. No matter how skilled he was, how well he played, if the blockers and libero couldn’t back him up it was all for naught. His coaches were aware of this but to be blunt, they didn’t know  _ how _ to utilize someone like him.

As Coach Washijou said, it was “the equivalent of throwing an amateur driver behind the wheel of a sports car and expecting him to win the race.”

“Listen,” the old man had told Ushijima. He’d scheduled one-on-ones with all the incoming first years and as the prospective ace, Ushijima was first in line. “With that arm of yours, we’re going to build a team stronger than any in the prefecture. We’re going to  _ win _ .” His fist met the table with a sharp  _ thud  _ to make his point. The assistant coach standing a few feet away jumped. Meanwhile, Ushijima sat unperturbed in his chair, hands resting idly in his lap. “Shiratorizawa is going to be unstoppable. Follow my lead and you’ll see the National stage.”

Ushijima felt a fire ignite in his heart at those words. He stood up to shake his new coach’s hand and said, “Thank you for your faith in me, Washijou-sensei.”

And for the last three years Shiratorizawa had been exactly that - unstoppable. A force of nature.

Where Shiratorizawa was an old forest that relied on history and a strong ecosystem to survive, Karasuno was an earthquake. It split concrete and uprooted trees as it reinvented itself time and time again. Karasuno, at its core, threw off the natural balance of things. Ushijima slowly came to accept that while Shiratorizawa was strong in the traditional sense, there was also a certain strength in change and adaptability. Karasuno utilized this like no team he’d ever seen.

Ushijima had never done well with change.

He took his time in the showers following his last official practice with the team. Sleep hadn’t come easily since the match and he was exhausted, mentally and physically. He rested his forehead against the tile and let the water – turned as hot as it would go – hit his sore muscles and unravel them. Unravel  _ him _ .

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear the footsteps approaching his shower stall.

“Wakatoshi? You alright in there?” His concerned voice cut through the fog in Ushijima’s head. “It’s getting dark.”

Ushijima sighed and nodded. “I’ll be right out.” He shut off the water and shook the excess water from his hair before leaning out of the stall in search of a towel. Ohira happened to be holding one out for him while he looked the other way. Ushijima took it and buried his face in the warm fabric. Took a deep, sobering breath.

“Thank you,” he said after a moment.

“For a while there I was worried you’d fallen in,” Ohira teased. He glanced briefly at Ushijima. “Feeling any better?”

Ushijima frowned.  _ Did _ he feel better? It was hard to say. He rubbed down his hair and chest with the towel before securing it around his waist. When he looked up, Reon still had his back turned and was humming a soft tune. Was he looking away out of courtesy? Ushijima couldn’t tell.

Then again, very little made sense between them anymore.

Ushijima wasn’t normally perceptive to the nuances in people’s behavior but even he could tell that most of their recent interactions carried an underlying tension - tension that had only worsened since their encounter a couple of months ago. Changing in front of each other in their dorm room had become an exercise in self-restraint; Ushijima found it impossible to focus on what he was doing while Ohira walked around the room in his boxers, and Ohira seemed similarly afflicted whenever Ushijima stripped out of his gym clothes. Just yesterday he’d caught Ohira staring wide-eyed as he bent over and stepped out of his boxers and shorts. Their eyes locked and the heat – the  _ hunger  _ there was unmistakable. Then, just as fast, Ohira had turned away.

They hadn’t made eye contact since.

Ushijima had no idea what do about any of it. Not until now. A thought occurred to him as he watched Ohira stretch his arms above his head and he decided to take a risk.  _ I should take more risks. _

It was with that thought that Ushijima closed the distance between them and slipped his arms around Ohira's waist. Ushijima's heart rose into his throat as he bent down and buried his nose in the soft skin of Ohira's neck, inhaling the combination of deodorant, the sweet smell of sweat and that hint of cinnamon in Ohira's natural scent. Shivers erupted down Ushijima's spine and suddenly he needed to be  _ closer _ to Ohira, to fit himself snugly against the curve of Ohira’s back until he felt their heartbeats thundering against one another.

“W-Wakatoshi,” Ohira rasped as he spread his hands along Ushijima’s arms. For a brief moment Ushijima worried that Ohira was going to push him away but instead he slowly rotated in Ushijima’s grasp until they were face to face. While a faint blush had spread from the freckled bridge of his nose across his cheekbones, his gaze was steady. Determined.

Ohira braced himself on Ushijima's biceps. “C’mon, let’s get you back home," Ohira said gently as he worried his teeth over his bottom lip. Ushijima was mesmerized. He couldn’t look away. "It’s um...been a rough couple of days. You should re—”

Ushijima had manners – very good manners, in fact. Despite her distance and harsh criticism of his life choices, his mother had raised him to be a polite young man, one who always minded his pleases and thank you’s, one who customarily let people finish their sentences without interrupting. The problem was he couldn’t hear a damned thing Ohira was saying with the blood thrumming in his ears.

Ushijima dipped down and caught Ohira’s open mouth in a kiss.  It was clumsy and rough but the sound, the  _ feel _ of Ohira’s faint moan quelled the ache in Ushijima’s chest and filled him with a pleasant warmth. He delved in deeper, swiping his tongue along Ohira's bottom lip to request access. Ohira granted it with enthusiasm as his fingers burrowed bruises into Ushijima's shoulders. Nothing about Ohira’s grip was gentle anymore. Nothing about _ this _ was gentle anymore. It was needy. Desperate. Escalating. Ushijima wanted to immerse himself in it – in Ohira. In  _ Reon _ .

Ushijima spread his hands along the perfect slope of Ohira’s spine before reaching up and cradling his face. He traced circles on the stubbly underside of Ohira’s jaw with his thumbs, felt Ohira’s pulse quicken beneath his touch. Ushijima’s senses were on high alert - he felt more  _ alive _ than he had since the match. His skin was boiling beneath the surface and yet he got a chill every time Ohira moved against him, brought them closer together. 

_ Does Reon feel this, too? _ As if in answer rough fingertips slipped just beneath the towel to draw circles on Ushijima’s hips and he surprised himself by groaning harshly into Ohira's very hot,  _ very _ pliant mouth.

Ohira froze. He pulled back his lips and hands and rested his forehead against Ushijima’s shoulder. Ushijima ran his thumb over Ohira’s quivering bottom lip. “Wait, Wakatoshi - “ As Ohira spoke, his breath scattered across Ushijima's damp skin. Everything was so  _ much _ . “Let's…let’s stop for a minute."

_ Stop.  _ Ushijima inhaled deeply and reluctantly let his hands fall away from Ohira’s face. “Okay,” he managed to say, even though his throat felt like it was about to clamp shut. A hot shroud of embarrassment slowly enveloped him as the reality of the situation set in - Ohira's body hot against his, the fact that the only thing separating them was a towel and a pair of gym shorts. Ushijima’s face  _ burned _ . “Forgive me," he muttered into  Ohira's frizzy, closely-cropped hair. “I’m not myself.”

“No, that's not – ” Ohira braced his hands on Ushijima’s shoulders as he gathered himself. “Please. Let me finish.” Ohira shut his eyes and clenched his hands into fists, as if it took a concentrated effort to get each word out. After a few deep breaths, he looked up with worried eyes. "As much as I’d like to keep going... I think - I think I'd like to take this slow if that's okay with you."

Ushijima blinked a few times as Ohira’s words sunk in. It was taking everything he had to redirect the blood in his body back to his brain. "I would like that, yes."

A sigh of relief. “Alright… Okay. Good." The corners of Ohira’s eyes crinkled  in a warm, tremulous smile. The sight made Ushijima's heart jump in his chest. "Let’s not rush it, then." The tips of Ohira's fingers traced the line of hard muscle running from Ushijima’s elbow to his wrist. Ushijima’s eyes fluttered shut with a shiver. “We have plenty of time to figure it out.”

_ Do we?  _ Ushijima opened his mouth to say something - he wasn't sure exactly what - but the words died in his throat. He swallowed and nodded once. The ache in his chest slowly crept back, but it was a different ache than before.

Ohira leaned up and pecked Ushijima on the cheek before pulling away altogether. He nodded towards the lockers. “Let's get you dressed, Wakatoshi. It’s chilly outside these days .”

❀❀❀

True to its word, winter swept through the Shiratorizawa campus and carried with it the air of change. The third years were the most affected. Semi and Tendou became more restless and prone to mischief - or rather, Tendou became more prone to mischief and Semi tried his best to make sure no one got hurt. Yamagata immersed himself in his studies and helped Ushijima to do the same in preparation for finals. Ushijima and Reon continued practicing volleyball every day, usually at the local university. Goshiki worked harder every day to earn his place as the new ace. Shirabu… Well. Shirabu was adjusting.

Ushijima knew what his plans were after graduation, had known for quite some time now, but instead of feeling excitement he now felt a growing sense of unease. This concerned him. He had no reason to feel this way. Everything was set in stone. He was going to move on to a bigger stage, face new opponents. Get to know a new team. He had a lot to look forward to.

So why did it feel like everything was ending?

A representative from Chuo University had made him an offer at the end of his second year and told him to “think on it” until the time for entrance exams – a mere formality no matter which school he chose, his counselor had assured him. “Wherever you end up, they’re going to want you based on your athletic performance, not your grades. They want someone who will bring good publicity to their program.”

While he wasn’t entirely sure how he would help with “good publicity,” Ushijima had been relieved to hear this seeing as he had nothing to offer other than his talents on the court. While his grades weren’t bad per se, they certainly weren’t on the same level as, say, Ohira’s.

Ohira had always been extremely intelligent. He read a lot of books and online articles. He was always talking about something he’d read or seen in a documentary. He knew the world map like the back of his hand and often stayed after to chat with his teachers. At least, that was what Ushijima had observed in the hallways between classes.

Ushijima admired him.

“Can you believe they finally got high quality footage of Mars?” Ohira asked one day at lunch, eyes bright with curiosity. “I wonder what it’s really like up there.” He pointed up to the sky with his yogurt spoon before taking another bite.

“I’m not in a rush to find out.” Tendou shuddered. “Space is some scary shit, my friend. If you think about it too much it’ll swallow you whole. Have ya ever seen that American flick,  _ Event Horizon _ ? Fucked. Up. 0/10 Do Not Recommend.”

Ohira rolled his eyes. “You watch way too many movies, Satori. Why don’t you read the  _ National Geographic _ issues I gave you? Learn a little more about the world we live in.”

“Hmmm.” Tendou leaned back so far in the plastic chair that the girl behind him made an offended noise and scooted away in fear of him falling on her. Then he tipped forward and the chair landed with a clatter. “Nah. I think I’d rather let Wakatoshi-kun use my face for serving practice.” 

Ohira waved his spoon at Tendou in warning. “Satori, there’s no reason for – ”

Ushijima chose that precise moment to return from the trance he’d entered. “I remember Reon saying that space is so silent it’s almost loud,” he said. “I wonder if different planets have different kinds of silence.” 

After a moment of stunned speechlessness, Tendou whistled low. “Whoa there, Wakkun! Don’t get  _ too _ deep on us.”

Ohira ignored Tendou as he stared up at the ceiling in thought. He drummed his spoon against the counter as the gears in his brain turned. “You got me there, Wakatoshi. I’ll have to look into it.”

_ Reon. _

Ushijima could feel tendrils of heat creep up his spine whenever he thought about what had transpired between him and Ohira over the last few months. While they hadn't gone any further since that night in the locker room, things between them had certainly become more… _ friendly _ .

Significantly more friendly.

It was in the little gestures, each one a little bolder than the one before it. Brushing hands in the hallway between classes. Exchanging small smiles across the court. Ohira going with him to check on the plants even while it snowed outside.  Ohira helping him with his calculus equations. Ohira patiently waiting for Ushijima to talk through a problem he was having. Words weren’t easy for Ushijima. Ohira’s presence made them easier.

On second thought, perhaps things weren’t so different. The actions were the same, the intent behind them the same at its core. Now instead of patting Ohira on the back like he would Yamagata or Tendou, Ushijima felt the urge to kiss the patch of freckles that disappeared under Ohira’s shirt collar. Felt the urge to hold Ohira’s hand as they on the bus ride back from the college.

Felt the urge to take care of Ohira when he got sick.

Ushijima noticed something was off during the last free practice with their kouhais.

"Ohira-san, are you alright?" Shirabu asked as Ohira missed the third serve that day. He was breathing heavily and Ushijima noticed that his skin looked ashen. Had he looked like that this morning when they were leaving for class? At lunch? Ushijima couldn't remember.

Why couldn’t he remember?

Ohira looked up with a weak smile. "Oh, I'm sure it's nothing," he assured the setter as he dragged his forearm across his forehead. Was he  _ shaking? _ "Thanks, Shirabu. I think I'm gonna head back to take a nap. Play nice with Goshiki while I’m gone." 

When Ushijima returned to their dorm some time later to check on Ohira, he found him curled up in bed with a temperature of 38° C .

Other members of the Shiratorizawa volleyball team had gotten sick before. Ushijima had come down with a cold during their first year, Semi was perpetually sniffly (he swore that it was allergies, but Ohira often scolded him for not eating enough oranges.) Tendou didn’t get enough sleep so his immune system never quite worked the way it was supposed to. He was always the first one to catch whatever the first years brought in at the start of the term.

Ohira… Ohira had  _ never _ gotten sick, not since Ushijima met him. He was always the one who made soup for his teammates whenever they were too sick to come to practice. He’d done it for a very frustrated, bed-ridden Goshiki just a few weeks before.

Ushijima stroked his chin as he considered his options. What kind of soup had Ohira made? Was it something that Ushijima could make easily? He intended to find out. 

“I can’t believe you got Benkei sick, Tsutomu!” Tendou exclaimed as they walked into the dining hall. He clapped his kouhai on the shoulder a little too hard and Goshiki stumbled. “Good goin’!”

“I _ told  _ you, it wasn’t my fault!” Goshiki squawked. “Ohira-san wore a flu mask when he came to visit me. He must have caught something from one of you.”

“You keep tellin’ yourself that, Tsutomu.” Ignoring Goshiki’s subsequent glare, Tendou rested his chin on his hands and shifted his attention to Ushijima. "What about you, Miracle Boy? You don’t look so hot. Did you catch the plague , too?”

Ushijima was very focused on picking at his food. Normally he'd be on his second serving by now, but his appetite had been abnormally finicky as of late. “No,” he replied.

“Hmmm.” Tendou narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “Are ya sure? You two’ve been pretty...cozy lately, haven't ya? Maybe you’re like...a carrier or something."

_ Cozy? Is that what people call it?  _ Ushijima forced himself to take another bite of the hayashi rice in front of him even though his stomach was none too thrilled about the idea.

“You sure are quiet today, Wakkun.”

Another bite.

After a few more seconds of silence Tendou threw his head back and groaned, drawing the attention of other students in the cafeteria. “Ahhhh! You’re  _ killin _ ’ me here! Come ooon, tell me – ”

“Holy shit Tendou, _ shut up _ ,” Semi begged. He raised his head from his backpack with a scowl on his face. Ushijima watched impassively as he smacked Tendou on the back of the head. Tendou yelped. “Let the man eat in peace. More importantly - let me sleep.”

Ushijima let out a breath he didn’t realize he'd been holding.

“Sleep is for the weak, Eita-kun,” Tendou mumbled as he rubbed the back of his head in annoyance. “You know that. Why don’t you just go back without me? There’s a nice pillow there just for your pretty little –”

"Idiot. You spilled an energy drink all over my pillow yesterday, remember?" Semi stood up, taking his tray with him. "I probably need to run it through the wash again. Thanks for the reminder."

"Aw, come on! It's not like I did it on purpose! Have a heart," Tendou whined. Giving Ushijima one last fleeting look, he followed his roommate out of the dining hall. Their bickering could be heard even when they wandered through the double doors.

Ushijima stared at his lunch for a few moments longer before pushing it away in defeat.

❀❀❀

After classes let out for the day, Ushijima decided to ask Reon's teachers if he had any homework to make up. He was grabbing a couple of books out of Ohira's locker when Tendou walked up to him, shirt untucked and wrinkled, tie loosened.

"Oh ho ho?"  he hooted. "What's this? Wakatoshi-kun going out of his way for another person? You never got my books for me when _ I _ was sick!"

Ushijima stared at Tendou point blank and said, "That's right."

Tendou grabbed his upper arms and shivered dramatically. "Ouch, Wakkun! So cold. I have frostbite."

"I don’t see why," Ushijima replied. "The weather today is mild compared to previous weeks.”

Tendou slapped his thigh as he cackled. "You're a funny one. So how  _ is _ Benkei? Are ya gonna make some soup for him? Oyakodon? A hot pot, maybe? Can we even do that with the dinky little kitchen in the dorm... Hm..."

Ushijima closed Ohira's locker and turned to face Tendou, who was tapping his foot in thought. "I was considering it."

Tendou grinned at this news. "I'll help out!" He rubbed his palms together. "Get your coat, we're goin' to the store!" 

❀❀❀

A couple of hours and one burnt finger later (Tendou's, not Ushijima's), a warm batch of oyaku sat on the stove. Ushijima waited for it to cool off before transferring it to a plastic to-go container that he could take upstairs with him.

"You’re a pretty cool guy, Wakkun," Tendou said with a grin. “Watching over us mere mortals.” He folded his lanky forearms across the back of the chair and tilted his head up to look at Ushijima.

"Thank you for your assistance," Ushijima replied as he carefully spooned the rice and chicken dish into the container. “I believe I can handle it from here if you need to leave.”

"Nah, I'm enjoyin' this. You've been so busy lately I've missed our little chats." Tendou rested his chin on his forearms and watched Ushijima. "You really care about him, don't ya?"

Ushijima frowned. Tendou's words made his chest feel funny. He thought about Ohira, who was probably upstairs sweating and shivering like he had been early this morning. Ushijima hoped he got ample rest today. "I care about all of my teammates," he said slowly. "I want everyone to be healthy."

Tendou peered at him with large, unblinking red eyes. "Yeah but... Y’know, Wakkun, I think you might care about Reon a little differently," he ventured. “Like… You wanna hold his hand, right?”

Ushijima briefly met Tendou’s gaze before returning to his task. His brow furrowed as he thought about how many times he’d wanted to grab Ohira’s hand over the course of the last few weeks. He counted six. "Perhaps."

"Eeeee! I think that’s great!" Tendou rocked back in forth in the chair in excitement. "You shouldn't be so embarrassed about it, Wakatoshi-kun. Embrace your feelings. Do whatever your little volleyball-obsessed heart desires."

Ushijima blinked down at Tendou. "I'm not embarrassed.”

"Are too! You’re blushin’!”

Ushijima secured the lid on the container and wrapped it in a towel from the cupboard. His face  _ did _ feel hot. He shouldered his satchel and headed towards the door. "Thank you, Tendou."

"No problemo~" Tendou waved. "Sayonara! Ganbatte!”

❀❀❀

Ohira was awake and huddled up at his desk working on homework when Ushijima opened the door. His blanket was wrapped around him so that the only part of him visible was his hand as he wrote on a piece of paper. Every now and then he paused to sniffle.

"H - " Ohira coughed into his blanket. His normally deep, resonating voice sounded like it was about to fade away at any moment. "Hey, Wakatoshi. How was your day?"

Ushijima set the container of food on Ohira's desk along with a spoon. Ohira took off his reading glasses to peer up at him through tired eyes. His skin was flushed with fever and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. Ushijima fought the strange urge to wipe it away with the sleeve of his sweater. "Oh? What's this?"

"Oyakodon," Ushijima replied as he set down his bag and shrugged out of his school jacket. He hung it on the back of his chair.

Ohira coughed again. "You made this? For me?" he croaked, brows quirking upward.

"Tendou assisted me," Ushijima clarified. "I also brought your homework."

After a moment's hesitation, Ohira unwrapped the food container and snapped off the lid, took a sniff. His eyes brightened as he smiled at Ushijima. "This is perfect. Thanks, captain.”

Ushijima’s heart swelled and he grinned to himself as he gathered Ohira's books from his bag.

❀❀❀

Ohira returned to classes and the court a couple of days later, much to Ushijima’s relief. He moved a little slow at first, lost his breath a little quicker but worked hard to rebuild his former stamina. Ushijima kept a close eye on him to ensure he didn't work  _ too _ hard.

When the volleyball team wasn’t conditioning in the indoor gym or sledding down the hill right outside campus, they huddled up in their dorm rooms absorbing the warmth from the heater . There was plenty to read up on between final exams and university entrance exams. Ohira had attended cram school in the past, but recently he seemed content to “cram” within arm’s distance of Ushijima until they crashed into their respective beds.

From time to time, they also absorbed warmth from each other. 

The first time it happened was on one of the colder nights. The windows were frosted over with ice and the tiny space heater glowed in the corner, casting a faint orange hue on the room. Ushijima hadn’t quite drifted off when he felt his bed dip and creak beneath the weight of another body. A few seconds later he felt a warm, solid weight on his lower back. He could feel heat radiating through his t-shirt.

“Hm?” Ushijima hummed as he rubbed his eyes. He rolled over and tried to locate the source of the touch. “What?”

"Hey." Ohira’s voice was soft in his ear and he immediately stilled. As he oriented himself with his surroundings he realized it was Ohira’s  _ hand _ on his back, rubbing slow circles at the base of his spine. “Did I wake you?”

Ushijima involuntarily arched into the touch. “No,” he rasped, voice thick with sleep. “What’s wrong? Do we need to turn up the heater again?”

“No, no, don’t worry about that,” Ohira murmured against the back of Ushijima’s neck before pressing a kiss there. Then another. And another.  Ushijima shivered. His heart was hammering against his ribcage so hard that he could feel it echo in his eardrums.

“I wanted to thank you again." Ohira hooked his fingers under Ushijima's shirt collar to draw it back and press more kisses at the junction between his neck and shoulder. "For taking care of me when I was sick. You didn’t have to."

Ushijima turned until Ohira’s thick eyelashes tickled his cheek. "I wanted to,” Ushijima murmured, his heartbeat getting louder by the second. Even though it was dark, he could see Ohira’s eyes shining. He could smell –  _ taste _ the mint from Ohira’s toothpaste. It made his lips tingle. "You’ve been good to me, Reon. I’m grateful.”

Ushijima didn’t hesitate this time before leaning in and molding his mouth to Ohira’s. He kissed him once, twice – licked his way languidly into Ohira’s mouth. It felt so natural that he didn’t know how much time passed before they broke apart.

“Mmmm.” Ohira smiled, his lips curving against Ushijima’s as he wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him closer. “But of course. You deserve all the good in the world, Wakatoshi.” 

Morning came swiftly. The sun drifted in through the thin coat of ice on the window and for the first time in recent memory, Ushijima felt reluctant to get out of bed for his morning run. Instead, he pulled the warm body curled around him even closer and slept until his school alarm went off.

Perhaps this wasn’t an end, Ushijima reflected as he stared into Ohira’s sleeping face. Perhaps it was also a beginning.

❀❀❀

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER AND A DAY,, life stuff has been pretty bad but here it is! i'm having a lot of fun with these two.  
> thank you so much maëlle for beta-reading this and AJ/amber/rui/everyone on twitter who've been supportive ^^;; you guys are great  
> also thanks so much to those who commented on part one!!  
> hopefully the last part won't take as long! thank you for reading! ♥︎♥︎♥︎


	3. Loving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the Sunday after finals. Oohira takes Ushijima to the lake behind the Shiratorizawa campus for some rest and relaxation but things get a little...heated.

“Ask him out, already."

“Hmmm.” Ohira frowned and rubbed his chin as he considered. “I suppose I could.” His eyes traveled to the window and followed the shadow of the sun as it slowly disappeared behind the rolling hills of Sendai. Another long day of finals and studying was finally drawing to a close.  _ We’re in the home stretch now, at least. _

Sendai was the capital city of Miyagi, with lots of people and traffic and tall buildings, but from the Shiratorizawa campus Ohira could see the edges of the countryside, he could imagine the highway turning into a narrow, winding road as it crept up the mountain. The view tempted and soothed Ohira, who had always enjoyed the outdoors - it was the one place where he could truly unwind, away from people. He missed camping and fishing and everything his family used to do on summer vacations.

Ohira wondered if Ushijima liked the outdoors, too. Had he ever asked him?  _ What have we talked about, besides volleyball? What do I actually know about him? _

“Wait.” Yamagata chewed on his pen thoughtfully. "Isn’t asking him out on a date kind of… I dunno…backwards at this point in the game?”

Ohira felt that familiar heat rise under his shirt collar and loosened his tie a little.

"Hah! Well…that’s not exactly true." He gave Yamagata a lopsided grin. “We’ve only kissed, after all.”

“Right.” Yamagata made sure the immediate space around them was clear, even though the library was usually empty at this point in the evening - the only students left were huddled up in corners, asleep with their headphones on. “Listen… I saw you guys in the showers the other day,” he said with a knowing grin, looking this way and that before meeting Ohira’s eyes. “It’s not a big deal, dude."

_ Oh, boy. Here we go.  _ "It’s not... it’s not what you think, Hayato. He uh,” Ohira rubbed the back of his head as he struggled to find the words, “had his back to me the entire time and we... well, we - "

"Yeah, yeah. I get the picture, thanks." Yamagata glanced away, ears tinged a little red. "My point is, you need to stop beating around the bush about this. The whole team’s in on it, the only one who’s oblivious in this scenario is Wakatoshi.” Yamagata quirked an eyebrow. “And I don't think that's fair to him, do you?"

Ohira sighed. “No, I suppose it’s not, is it?” he asked softly, half to himself. He took off his reading glasses and set them on the desk before smoothing his hands over his face, massaging his tired eyes with the tips of his fingers. His hands were drier than usual after the recent weather change combined with practice. They felt scratchy against his eyelids.

“I’m at a loss,” he continued. “There’s...”  _ The last thing I want to do is make things difficult for him.  _ “There’s a lot at stake. Entrance exams are a week away. We might end up going to different universities, and what then?”

Ohira shook his head as he leaned back in his chair. “I don’t want to be short-sighted about this.”  _ I want him to have a chance to experience new things, new people. I want the great eagle to spread its wings. _

Yamagata’s voice cut through Ohira’s spiraling thoughts, “Here’s an idea: let the guy make up his own damned mind about what he can handle. Our ace doesn’t like it much when people try to make important decisions for him.  _ You  _ of all people should know that.”

Yamagata slammed his Calculus book shut and pointed a finger at Ohira. “You’re his right-hand man, aren’t you? You’re  _ Benkei  _ , damn it  _.  _ Act like it.”

Ohira’s eyes fell to his lap, where his palms rested face up. There was a time when he took offense to that nickname, but these days he spent so much time around “Ushiwaka” he had to admit that it had become rather fitting. He’d stopped correcting Tendou a long time ago.

After a moment he grinned wryly and said, “I’m trying, but it's somehow more complicated when there are…” He frowned and his fingers curled slowly into fists. “Romantic feelings involved.”

Yamagata hummed in response as he rummaged through his bag, muttering something about “my damned phone.” He gave up after a few seconds and tilted his head at his friend. “Complicated how?”

Ohira swallowed the lump in his throat. “Maybe it was selfish of me to kiss him that day but it felt… it felt right.” He smiled hopelessly. “I never thought... I never  _ imagined  _ my feelings would be reciprocated. I just wanted him to know he’s appreciated, that he’s loved for more than his skills on the volleyball court. I - ”

_ I want him to know  _ I  _ love him. _

Ohira held a hand to his forehead and focused on breathing, in and out, in and out, hoping Yamagata hadn’t noticed his slip of the tongue.

“Now that,” Yamagata said as he flipped a page in his textbook, “was short-sighted.”

Ohira let out a shaky sigh.  _ Whew  _ , he thought.  _ That was close. _

“The guy’s had a thing for you ever since Tendou’s party last summer. Probably longer, knowing him.” Yamagata scratched his head in frustration. “It’s not like he’s easy to read. Hell, you’re better at it than any of us are.”

Ohira blinked a few times before breaking out into a soft, melodic laugh. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “I don’t know about that, but… I do my best.”

“Whatever,” Yamagata scoffed but his eyes were fond as he looked at Ohira. “Just - do me a solid and tell him, yeah? He deserves to know.”

“Of course. Thanks, Hayato,” Ohira replied as shoved his books back into his worn-out leather satchel. “By the way, did you ever find your phone?”

❀❀❀

On Sunday morning, Ohira leaned up in Ushijima’s bed and immediately reached for his own phone. He’d heard it go off in the middle of the night before falling back asleep. Meanwhile, his roommate was rummaging through their dresser drawers in search of...something, probably a clean shirt.

Ohira rubbed the back of his neck.They hadn’t done laundry properly in a few days and yesterday Ohira had stolen Ushijima’s last undershirt, not because his had been dirty, but because he liked that even though they wore the same size, Ushijima’s shirts were a little stretched in the shoulders. Ohira was not a small person by any means but Ushijima still outweighed him and had several inches on him.

The room was warm but gooseflesh broke out across Ohira’s bare arms at the thought.

He swiped his thumb to unlock his phone and was unsurprised to find his mom’s number on the list of notifications, along with today’s weather forecast and reminders for school assignments due. As a freelance journalist, she often kept odd sleeping hours and one of the things Ohira had gotten used to were random texts along with occasional phone calls to ask him if a piece of writing sounded decent.

Why she asked him, when she had an editor, Ohira still wasn’t sure, but he was usually happy to help.

mom (2:32 AM): it occurred to me that it’s only a few weeks until you graduate. are you excited?!

mom (2:35 AM): oh btw when do we need to pick up your stuff? lmk

me (9:09 AM): Haha, I will be once finals are over. Also, not sure yet. I’ll let you know as soon as I know.

Ohira typed while glancing up every few seconds at Ushijima’s back, the way his muscles rippled as he unfolded his shirt. It was a struggle to tear his gaze away, even more to pick up his train of thought. He continued typing.

me (9:10 AM): Oh yeah, Satori wants to go to one of the local ryokans right after graduation. Fully expecting an adventure. I have some scholarship money left over so I figured I’d use it.

A few seconds later his phone vibrated again.

mom (9:11 AM): okay, sweetheart. have fun! send a postcard

mom (9:11 AM): you know your dad likes to collect them

me (9:12 AM): Will do! Thanks.

Ohira set his phone back down on the bedside table with a smile and scooted over to the edge of the bed, swinging his legs over the edge. In the last few minutes Ushijima had moved onto putting away clothes he’d folded the night before into their respective drawers - including Ohira’s.

_ Tell him, yeah? He deserves to know. _

Yamagata’s words from earlier that week echoed in Ohira’s mind and he suddenly felt much more awake. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and took a deep, sobering breath.  _ Well, here goes nothing. _

"Hey, Wakatoshi,” he ventured slowly. “Do you like to swim?"

"Swim?" Ushijima repeated as he pulled on a plain black t-shirt. His hair - which had gotten long on top - fluffed up when the collar popped over his head. Ohira suppressed a grin at the sight. "I suppose so. Why do you ask?"

"There's a little lake behind campus that’s really nice this time of year,” Ohira replied. “The water was too low last time I tried to go but after all the rain we got last week it might be just right."

Ushijima blinked curiously in response before folding another pair of Ohira’s gym shorts. “I see.”

A few beats of silence passed and Ohira bit his lip. This was going about as well as he’d thought it would. "It's a little off the beaten path, lots of trees,” he continued. “What d’you think, Wakatoshi? Sounds like a date?”

Ushijima nodded absently. The sun was slowly rising above the mountains, spilling light into the dorm room and highlighting the golden hues in the Ushijima’s hair, a consequence of many days spent in the sun. It reflected in his wide eyes, which were currently boring into Ohira’s.

_ Oh.  _ Ohira’s mind was a blank canvas as he stared back, his heart thudding erratically in his ears.

"Alrighty, well - ” he reached under the hem of his boxers and scratched his inner thigh, “I know we have that practice match tomorrow that you wanted to get ready for. We’d get back before too late, it takes about half an hour to get there by foot. I was thinking we could take some food with us too – the corner store sells steamed pork buns on the weekends.”

Ushijima lifted his gaze from Ohira’s hands - which he had apparently been watching this whole time - and nodded. "I’d like that.”

Ohira tried not to smile too wide. The truth was, he'd been wanting to ask Ushijima to come with him since last spring, but the moment never felt quite right. Now he knew why – because even back then, he’d wanted it to be special, even though he had no idea what “special” meant at the time. All he knew was he didn’t want it to be the same as, say, Tendou or Yamagata joining him.

"It’s times like these I wish the dorm had a proper kitchen," he mused as he rose from the bed and walked over to where Ushijima was standing. He nudged Ushijima’s shoulder with his own. “It’s a good spot for fishing, too."

"Ah." Ushijima surprised Ohira then by reaching for his hand, tentatively, fingertips just barely tracing the lines in Ohira's callused palm.

"You’re welcome to accompany me next time I return home," Ushijima said, briefly glancing down at Ohira's upturned face. His expression was impassive, giving nothing away, but under the unforgiving sun Ohira could see his face change color. "We have an appropriately sized kitchen. There's also a lake nearby if I'm not mistaken.” He scratched his jaw. “I've been told it has ample fish."

“O-Oh?” Ohira’s heart skipped a beat.

What  _ did  _ Ushijima’s bedroom look like, he wondered? It was hard to tell - as long as they’d been rooming together, the only personal possession Ushijima had was a photograph of him and his father, which sat on his desk. Ohira had always liked that photo.

Ushijima’s bedroom at home was probably minimalistic, with dusty bronze trophies on top of his dresser, a few books on volleyball and plant care scattered here and there. An old computer, maybe a dog that slept on his bedroom floor. Definitely a small garden in his backyard.

Ohira’s face heated up when he thought of sitting on - sleeping on Ushijima's futon, which was most likely much bigger than the dorm bed they'd gotten in the habit of sharing recently. Ohira had never realized just how small the beds were at Shiratorizawa until he had the bulk of Ushijima pressing him against a wall in the middle of the night.

More than once Ohira had woken up with a stiff shoulder or a crick in his neck but honestly? The discomfort was well worth it.

"We have a spare futon," Ushijima continued, as if Ohira’s thoughts had been put on display. "If that is a concern."

Ohira chuckled as he laced his fingers with Ushijima's and squeezed. "I don’t think we’ll need it, do you?”

Ushijima glanced down at him with mild surprise before his eyes softened. The hard line of his mouth twitched upwards in a tender smile and Ohira felt  _ weak  _ knowing that it was for him. The sun paled in comparison. “I hope not.”

❀❀❀

Ohira was relieved to find that not much about his favorite spot had changed.

As he led Ushijima through the trees surrounding the edge of the lake, he took a deep breath of the fresh air. The walk wasn’t a long one, but it had been uphill so they were both breathing a little hard by the time they reached the clearing.

Ushijima was kneeling at the water’s edge by the time Ohira finished setting everything down at the base of one of the larger trees.Ohira shimmied out of his gym shorts and laid them out on the towel so they wouldn’t get wet.

“How is it?” Ohira asked as he sat down on one of the larger rocks near the edge.

Ushijima made a faint noise of approval before abruptly splashing some of the water on his face. Ohira felt his mouth dry up as Ushijima closed his eyes and tilted his head back to expose his Adam’s apple. Water dripped down the sharp angle of his jawline, droplets clinging to his eyelashes. Licking his lips, he smoothed his hands down his neck and under his shirt collar.

“You were right.” His eyes flickered open to gaze at Ohira. “The water does feel nice.”

Ohira’s jaw was somewhere on the forest floor, lost beneath the foliage. All he could do was stare back wordlessly; he’d just caught his breath and it was already escaping him again. He felt sweat trickle down his spine and it had absolutely nothing to do with the sun beating down on them.

“That’s...good,” he eventually managed to say. “Happy to hear it.”

It wasn’t _ fair  _ . How the heck was he supposed to keep a straight face when every time he looked at the person in front of him, he felt his heart grow so big that it tried to push  _ through  _ his ribcage? How was he supposed to act like nothing had changed between them when all he could think about was what could’ve –  _ would’ve  _ happened that day in the locker room if he hadn’t stepped back. If he hadn’t pressed pause.

But he’d had to. He’d  _ had  _ to, because while all he’d wanted to do was console Ushijima that day, make him feel better, make  _ himself  _ feel better, he was also filled with the fear that if it had happened like  _ that  _ , with all of their pent-up frustration and anger over losing their spot at Nationals, they’d never be able to shake it off. It would hang on them like moss on a stone buried deep in the woods.

Ohira didn’t want this - whatever was happening between them - to be a band-aid. Not when they could have something much more meaningful.

He’d become so lost in thought that he didn’t realize Ushijima was close until he was tugging gently at the hem of Ohira’s shirt as if to take it off. “May I?”

“O-oh. Yeah, thanks, Wakatoshi.” Ushijima hummed in response as he lifted the shirt over Ohira’s shoulders and folded it up with his own clothes. All business.

Meanwhile, Ohira was doing his best not to gawk. The only thing Ushijima had on was a pair of maroon Shiratorizawa swim shorts that were a tiny bit too small. Okay, maybe a size too small. They still fit, technically, but they were certainly...snug. Ohira belatedly recognized them as a pair Ushijima and the rest of the team had been issued in their second year. He’d grown since then. They both had.

The shorts were so short that Ohira could see crisp tan lines on Ushijima’s toned thighs, where his volleyball shorts stopped. He could also see – quite clearly – the perfect curve of Ushijima’s ass as he bent over to grab a bottle of water.

Ohira felt something in him throb at the sight and he knew he needed to cool off and  _ fast  _ .

“I’m going in for a bit!” He tried to ignore the way his voice cracked in the middle of his declaration. “Don’t forget to put on sunscreen, Wakatoshi.”

“Mmm.”

❀❀❀

Reon was floating, enjoying the feel of the sun on his skin when suddenly he felt a presence at his side, a hand on his arm. He cracked one eye open to see Ushijima staring down at him, dripping water from his hair onto Ohira’s face and blocking out the sun.

“Are you hungry?”

The pork buns from the corner store turned out to be  _ barbecue  _ pork buns with a surprise matcha bun thrown in, which they split in the end because Wakatoshi had apparently never had one. After eating his fill and swallowing it down with the water they’d brought, Ohira stretched out on the towel, resting his arms behind his head as he did so.

Ushijima sat cross-legged beside him looking out at the water. Ohira could hear him skipping rocks, the soft  _ plop  _ as they sunk to the bottom. “Have you decided where you’re going to university?” he asked after a while.

Ohira shrugged as he stared up at the tree above them, the squirrel hopping along the branches and the leaves trembling in the soft wind. Part of him had been dreading this conversation, but now that it was happening he just felt calm.

“Not yet. I’m still waiting on either Tokai or Chuo to send me a letter.” He covered his mouth as he yawned. “It also depends on where I’m offered a scholarship, since my parents can’t help out with costs.”

Another long pause fell between them and the sounds of the forest were slowly lulling Ohira to sleep. Then, softly, barely heard over the sounds of the birds and cicadas, “I see.”

Ohira slowly blinked his eyes open and leaned up into a sitting position. He glanced over at Ushijima, who was wiping the sweat off his brow with the towel hanging around his shoulders.

He was already a little sunburned and Ohira shook his head a little.  _ I guess you ignored me when I mentioned sunscreen... _

“You’re going to Chuo for sure, right?” Ohira asked.

Ushijima nodded as he tossed another rock. “They’ve already sent me the summer training schedule.”

“That’s great, Wakatoshi,” Ohira said, as he grabbed a skipping rock from the pile Ushijima had set between them. He turned it over in his hands as he tried desperately to come up with something to say - something that wouldn’t sound as sad as he felt. “Chuo is a great school. You’ll fit right in.”

Ushijima paused mid-throw and met Ohira’s eyes with a determined expression - brows furrowed, eyes sharp. “Your performance here at Shiratorizawa speaks for itself,” he said. “I believe the probability of you getting accepted to Chuo is high.”

Ohira shrugged as he ran his thumb along the ridge of the rock. “Maybe you’re right,” he admitted. “We’ll see in a month either way, right? Whatever happens, I’m happy I got to play here with you these last three years, Wakatoshi. It’s been a fun ride and I’ll never forget it.”

When he glanced up Ushijima’s expression hadn’t changed, but now his face was flushed. His throat was working like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get it out. “What is it?” Ohira prodded.

Ushijima swallowed. “I don’t want this to end here,” he finally managed in a hoarse voice.

_ Man, graduation must be hitting Wakatoshi harder than I originally thought. This is unlike him.  _ Ohira tried to smile big and bright to soothe his ace but the corner of his mouth trembled a little. He reached over and touched Ushijima’s back.

“I know what you mean.” Ohira had _ meant  _ to give Ushijima a simple pat, but before he knew it his hand was coasting along the sun-warmed, freckled skin of his friend’s shoulder blade and he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. “I’m sure graduation will be tough on all of us,” he said softly. “But aren’t you ready to...”

Ohira trailed off when he felt Ushijima’s hand cover his, warm and rough and  _ solid  _ . Ushijima leaned in close, closer until Ohira could pick out the flecks of brilliant gold in his eyes.

“I’m not referring to the school term,” Ushijima said, and while Ohira could barely hear him over the whistling of the wind through the trees, the familiar baritone burrowed under his skin, reverberated in his chest. “I would like to see where this path leads. The one we’ve started.”

Ohira took Ushijima’s hand in both of his and pressed a kiss to each one of his roughed up knuckles, his smile growing bigger and bigger. “Wow, Wakatoshi,” he chuckled, “You’ve got some moves.”

Ushijima retrieved his hand so he could smooth it along Ohira’s jaw and neck. “Moves?”

Ohira took Ushijima’s face in his hands so he could press soft kisses to it - his nose, his warm cheeks, his forehead, and finally his lips, which were trembling slightly before he covered them with his own.

“Yes,” Ohira breathed. “Moves.”

❀❀❀

Ohira had expected several things to happen on his date with Ushijima: swimming until a pleasant ache settled in their limbs, eating pork buns until they passed out on the flannel blanket (preferably with his head on Ushijima’s chest), watching the local bird population bathe in the shallow parts of the lake, dive for fish.

Maybe Ohira would even get the chance to touch Ushijima the way he desperately wanted to touch him, only without the worry that they’d run out of time or the fear of someone walking in on them (or at least, less of a fear.) The likelihood of someone walking up on them here versus, say, the locker room of Shiratorizawa’s gym was very, very slim - Ohira had never seen any students wandering around this far from campus. Even better, they were still within the confines of Shiratorizawa property so strangers weren’t a concern, either.

And while their dorm was private, most days they woke up with little time to spare before classes and came home in the evenings with barely enough energy to study, much less do anything else. They’d fallen asleep with their hands burrowed under one another's shirts more than once over the last month.

Overall there had been  _ moments  _ here and there, brief opportunities to take things further but Ohira had been practicing an obscene amount of caution and self-control since that day in the showers out of fear that it would be too much, too soon.

The time for that, however, had passed.

"Do you still want to take this slow?" Ushijima panted against Ohira's mouth and his voice was shaking in a way Ohira had never heard before and while it was _ scary  _ to hear that deep, commanding voice waver, it also kindled fires under Ohira's skin. He rested his forehead against Ushijima's and closed his eyes, concentrated on Ushijima's hands smoothing down his chest.

"Do  _ you  _ ?" Ohira probed.

"No."

That was all Ohira needed to hear and soon they were a mess of sweat, sun-heated skin and bold, curious touches, growing bolder by the second.

It all came pouring out during that afternoon by the lake, and Ohira wouldn't have had it any other way.

His feelings had been caught in his chest, tight and uncomfortable for so long that it almost felt strange to have those knots loosen under Ushijima’s lips and palms.

What had originally started as a twinge in Ohira's chest all those months ago had since turned into a deep, dull ache that had seeped between his ribs, thick like tree sap, making it hard for him to breathe. While painful, it was also comforting for Ohira to know that he had the capacity, the ability to care about another person quite this much, and in such a different way than he ever had before. For a long time he hadn't been sure that romance was for him. It was ironic - he'd given several members of his team, several classmates advice over the years, but that was all about being considerate towards the other person, not actual knowledge of how these things went. He'd always felt disconnected from the stories he read in books, seen in the dramas Tendou liked so much.

Until now.

The tree tree sap hardened one day and it felt like splinters stabbing into his side, because what if it wasn't the same for Ushijima?

But Ohira now knew that it  _ was  _ the same, that he wasn’t alone, and his heart swelled big enough to fill his chest and throat when Ushijima pushed him down onto the blanket.

Today Ohira had expected a kiss and maybe holding hands. He hadn't expected Ushijima to confess first.

He hadn't been expecting  _ this. _

Ohira had trouble hiding his surprise when he felt Ushijima’s warm, soft kisses travel along his neck, skimming his collarbone, down his chest and lower still, until Ohira’s shorts were damp with something other than river water.

Ushijima's palmed him and Ohira wasn't able to stop from canting his hips up.

"Wakatoshi." Ohira swallowed hard and pushed a piece of hair back from Ushijima’s face. Nervousness and arousal coiled in Ohira’s gut as one of Ushijima hooked his fingers into the waistband of Ohira's shorts, pulling them down just enough to elicit a shiver from Ohira as the air hit him.

Ushijima nuzzled him through the fabric and Ohira let his eyes flutter shut.

"May I?" he felt more so than heard Ushijima rumble.

"Sorry, I don’t think--" Ohira licked his lips as he tried to form words. "I don’t think I’ll be able to last very long if you do that."

"Oh," Ushijima replied. He blinked a few times and then met Ohira's eyes. He rested his cheek against the "v" of Ohira's hip. "Is that a problem?"

A smile rippled across Ohira's face. Ushijima looked so earnest, so eager to please. It was almost too much. "It's not a problem for  _ me  _ , but..."

The words were stolen out of Ohira's throat when Ushijima carefully pulled Ohira's shorts down the rest of the way and set them aside. "I don't mind."

Ohira wasn't really in a place to argue so he hid his blushing, sweating face in the crook of his arm. A groan was ripped from his throat when Ushijima's fingers dug into the flesh of his hips, holding him steady as he took him deeper into his mouth.

And deeper.

Ohira’s fingers clenched tighter in Ushijima's short hair with every downward motion of his head and he tried to draw Ushijima's mouth away before it was too late but Ushijima was  _ insistent  _ and Ohira really didn't stand a chance. When he shouted it echoed off the trees, and Ushijima's hands were smoothing down his legs, gentle as could be.

It was a while before Ohira was able to see anything but flesh-hued spots, hear anything but the thud of his heartbeat as it slowed.

“Wakatoshi,” he mumbled. “Come here...” Ohira pulled Ushijima up so he could taste him, turn him over onto his back and touch him, whisper  _ thank you, thank you  _ as he explored Ushijima's body slowly, with reverence, taking his time to smooth his lips and hands over every muscle and divot, every patch of freckles and every growth mark (a consequence of growing 3 inches in one summer.)

The late afternoon sun was warm on Ohira's back as he slid into Ushijima’s lap. They stayed like that, quiet and unmoving, sweat and heavy breathing and trembling hands, for what felt like an eternity until Ohira began to rock against Ushijima, drawing a shuddering moan from him.

“You’re so warm,” Ushijima rasped as he wrapped his arms around Ohira’s back and held them close. Ohira could feel Ushijima’s breath on his neck, halting and uneven; his trademark composure was slowly crumbling and Ohira was delirious with how good it felt knowing he was responsible. “Reon--”

“Wakatoshi,” Ohira breathed against the shell of Ushijima’s ear. There were all sorts of things bubbling up in his throat but he was afraid to let any of them loose. Ohira smoothed his fingers through the short, damp strands of Ushijima’s hair as he tried to ground himself. He felt dizzy, outside of his own body with sensation. His heartbeat was loud and erratic in his ears. He couldn’t hear the rush of the water anymore - he couldn’t hear the trees, the birds crowded on the branches above them. There was only Ushijima, golden and flushed and making noises unlike any Ohira had ever heard.

Ohira took Ushijima’s face in his hands and kissed him long and hard, thumbs rubbing gentle circles into the hollows of Ushijima’s cheeks. He still tasted like the matcha bun, sweet with a hint of earthiness. Ohira moaned into it when he felt those hands - those blessed, blessed hands - trek down his back until they settled on his hips.

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest when he felt Ushijima’s hands on his ass, squeezing experimentally.

“Hey, now.” Ohira laughed a little as he rested his forehead against Ushijima’s temple.

“Sorry,” Ushijima muttered, pulling back enough to look Ohira in the eyes. This close, Ohira could see the freckles the sun had left behind, faint on the bridge of his nose. “I got carried away.”

“N-no it’s okay I just wasn’t--“ Ushijima pulled him closer until Ohira could feel Ushijima’s hardness pressing against him. “Oh. Here, let me help you with that--”

Ohira leaned up onto his knees momentarily and Ushijima took the opportunity to pull his swim trunks all the way off.

“Better?”

Ushijima nodded against Ohira’s shoulder.

Ohira hooked an arm around Ushijima’s neck and pressed as close as he could get until every inch of his torso was pressed up against Ushijima’s. The fire beneath Ohira’s skin reached the surface when their hips joined as well.

Ushijima gasped as Ohira reached between them and Ohira decided then he would do everything in his power from now on to make Ushijima feel good. There was apparently a part of him that existed that  _ needed  _ to hear Ushijima moan his name, needed to hear the way Ushijima sounded when he forgot to breathe. He needed it like he needed Ushijima’s fingers digging bruises into his shoulders like he was right now.

“Wait, Reon,” Ushijima rumbled against his lips. “I’m… You should stop before I--”

“Let go, it's okay,” Ohira soothed as his hand sped up. He kissed Ushijima softly in time with his strokes and before long Ushijima was gone, broken moans and trembling shoulders against Ohira. “It’s okay.”

❀❀❀

They ended up swimming a  little longer in the river before finally drying off and putting their clothes back on. Ohira was thankful that he’d brought his sports jacket, because once the sun started setting the spring air took on a chill.

He took Ushijima’s hand in his as they finally emerged from the forest and started their walk down the road back to campus.

“That was a little risky,” Ohira remarked, biting his lip. “I hope you didn’t feel--”

“The chances of someone seeing us were slim,” Ushijima said matter-of-factly, as if he had already thought about this at length, weighed the pros and cons. “And I would not have done anything I felt uncomfortable with.”

Ohira grinned and swiped his thumb along Ushijima’s wrist as they picked up their pace again. “I’m glad that’s the case.”

Silence settled between them for a time as their shoes crunched against the gravel.

And then, as if commenting on the weather, Ushijima said: “You enjoyed our date, then?”

Ohira smiled so wide he thought his face was going to split in two. “Yeah,” he replied. “You could say that.”

❀❀❀

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HHHHHHH THIS STORY IS THE MOST FLUFF I HAVE EVER WRITTEN--SORRY NOT SORRY--  
> I was originally gonna keep this rated T but... /shrug emoji,, OH WELL  
> thanks so much maëlle and bees for looking this over and niko for all that incredible ushireon content >> http://rarepare.tumblr.com/post/155259024427/a-secret-santa-gift-for-candy-harlot-xoxo  
> i might, MIGHT add on a part 4 later on because i don't feel like I'm Quite Done telling this story yet but WE WILL SEE (depends on how much time/energy i have)  
> AND!! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE FEEDBACK!! ♥︎♥︎♥︎


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